Mr Monk in Jeopardy
by Bob Wright
Summary: Monk's signed up to play on America's favorite quiz show, and about to make it an episode for the ages. But his old enemies are bent on making his first TV appearance his last. NOW COMPLETED.
1. Arriving at Columbia Studios

MR. MONK IN JEOPARDY  
BY  
BOB WRIGHT AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've always been obsessed with game shows, and recently Monk has also joined the obsession list. Given his intellectual capacity, it would only be logical to join the two together, and Jeopardy would be the perfect fit, IMO. This story will be streamlined more when I attend a Price Is Right Taping on 6/2. Apart from Alex Trebek, all persons shown to be part of the day-to-day operations of Jeopardy are fictitious and any relations to any real persons connected with the show, past or present, is purely coincidental. Jeopardy is a trademarked copyright of Merv Griffin Enterprises, Califon Productions, and King World. Adrian Monk and all related characters and indicia are trademark copyrights of USA Network, Mandeville Films, and Touchstone Television. And now, on with the story.  
  
ONE  
"Here we are, Sony Pictures Studios," Sharona Fleming said as she pulled the van into the studio parking lot. She turned to her front-seat passenger. "Are you ready to do your best, Adrian?"  
"Uh, no not really," Adrian Monk was very nervous. Very, VERY nervous. Being on national television was something he wasn't accustomed, or comfortable, with, really. "I'd probably better just tell them I changed my mind; I don't want to be on the show."  
"Adrian, you can't back out now," Sharona told him.  
"Why not?"  
"Because if you do, I'll kill you for making me drive all the way down here and waste all this gas," she told him sternly.  
"Don't be worried, Mr. Monk," Benjy Fleming told Adrian, leaning over the front seat, "You're the smartest man on the West Coast. "You'll flatten the other contestants like they're pancakes."  
"Thank you, Benjy," Adrian told him, "But it's not that. You know me and crowds, and, well, since there'll be a crowd in there..."  
"Forget about the crowd, Monk," Captain Leland Stottlemeyer spoke up from the rear seat, "There's probably more germs than people in there, and since you told me germs trump crowds, there's really no need for you to worry about the audience."  
"Captain, I don't think that will really make Adrian feel any better," Dr. Charles Kroger told him. He leaned forward and put his hand close enough to Adrian to be comforting without actually touching him. "Adrian, just think that you're in control, and let the world dissolve around you, and you'll be just fine," he reassured his patient.  
"And keep in mind that if you do anything to embarrass this department, you'll be docked a paycheck," Stottlemeyer cut in.  
"Leland!" Karen Stottlemeyer elbowed her husband in the ribs and gave him a typically harsh glare. "Just kidding, honey," Stottlemeyer said quickly.  
"Good, because then I'd have to kill you for leaving my son and I in the lurch, since Adrian never pays us..." Sharona started to scold him.  
There was a loud snort from the rear. "Are we there yet?" Lieutenant Randall Disher asked, rising from a nap.  
"Yep, Randy, we're just here," Gail Fleming told him, patting him on the shoulder, "And we're going to be sitting next to each other. Great, huh?"  
"Uh hmm!?" Sharona shot her sister a harsh look.  
"Well Sharona, I don't have any control over the ticket arrangements," Gail told her with a triumphant look.  
"Here it is, contestant's entrance," Sharona pulled the van over to a door near the side of a soundstage. She turned to Adrian. "OK Adrian, take care of yourself, I know you'll do well," she told him caringly, "I'll just make a call to your brother and see how he and the others are doing, and then we'll be in."  
"I'm still a little disappointed Ambrose didn't want to come in person to watch me," Adrian commented. His brother was suffering from a case of agoraphobia almost as bad as his own OCD, but he'd been coming out of his house more often lately, raising Adrian's hopes that he'd be able to show up in person.  
"Well don't you think asking him to come all the way down here would be a bit of a stretch?" Sharona asked him with raised eyebrows. "I'm glad he was willing to invite everyone we know to watch the show with him, though. That's his way of showing he cares, you know."  
"I know he cares, it's just...." Adrian started, but Sharona started pulling away, calling after him, "Good luck, I know Trudy's proud of you." Adrian swelled up a little at the mention of his late wife. He wondered if there was television in heaven, and if so, if Trudy knew to watch him. If only she'd been able to see him in person...  
"Excuse me, you're Adrian Monk?" came a voice behind him. Adrian spun to find himself facing a clean-cut guy in an immaculate red blazer. "Hi, I'm Steve Conroy, I'm the contestant coordinator," he told the detective, shaking his hand. Adrian dug a medicated wipe out of his pocket and cleaned off his hand off (he noted with disdain that there were only four left; Sharona had failed to restock him). Steve seemed to be the first person in long time to not stare for a second at this action that proved so strange to most other "normal" people. "So Adrian, are you ready to put yourself in Jeopardy!?" Steve now joked with him.  
"Uh, that would depend on a couple of things; I don't have the full list with me right now, but I can handle the first few off the top of my head," Adrian began, "Uh, could we perhaps tape tonight's show without the audience? I mean, there's no rule that says we can't just splice the applause in during post-production..."  
"Adrian, we've been taping before a live audience for almost thirty years now, going back to when Art Fleming was host, and we can't just change now," Steve told him, almost laughing.  
"Okay, just thought I'd ask," Adrian said in resignation, "All right then, proposition number two, I just need to know, have the signaling buttons been sterilized lately?"  
"Walk with me Adrian," Steve took him by the shoulder, "We've still got," he pulled out his watch from his pocket, causing his wallet to fall out and flip open. In the course of a split second, Adrian noticed something interesting inside it, but quickly shrugged it off as unimportant. "We've still got a good forty-five minutes till air," Steve continued, picking up his wallet and putting his hand on Adrian's shoulder, "and we need to get you good and ready for your fifteen minutes of fame later on tonight."  
"Um, it's not a fifteen minute show, it's a half hour," Adrian pointed out, "I've been watching since the Art Fleming era, and it's always..."  
"It's an expression, Adrian," Steve rolled his eyes, "Come on, you've got a date with the crew in the dressing room to get you all set up."  
"Um, has the dressing room been cleaned lately?"  
  
"I'm assuming you've got a foolproof plan here, Beiderbeck?" convicted serial killer Leonard Stokes said as he paced around the jail cell.  
"It's good enough to be called practically foolproof, Leonard," Dale "the Whale" Beiderbeck said, shifting his massive 900-pound frame around in his oversized bed. His attention was focused on the big screen TV he'd been able to have placed in his cell, on which Wheel of Fortune was now playing. But it was only a temporary distraction for him, as his real mission lay ahead of him.  
"Mr. Phillbey, I need to know, was the bomb set correctly?" he asked defrocked science teacher Derek Phillbey, who was seated nearby.  
"As far as I know, Mr. Beiderbeck," Phillbey told him nervously, "but I want you to know that if anything goes wrong, I'll turn state's evidence against you and tell them it was all your idea."  
"If you wish," Beiderbeck said dismissively, "but then I supposed I'd have to tell your ex-wife some of the more lurid details of your affair with Beth Landow...."  
"OK, I get the point!" Phillbey muttered, putting his head in his hands, "It's just that, well, we're not just going to kill Adrian Monk by going ahead with this. All those innocent women and children..."  
"Derek, you killed an 'innocent' groundskeeper; what is so different about what we're doing here?" Beiderbeck said in mock indignation.  
"I don't know!" Phillbey threw up his hands in disgust.  
There was a knock on the cell door. "Dexter, Pat, please, come on in," Beiderbeck said, waving in the new arrivals. Former porn kingpin Dexter Gold and wife killer Pat Van Rankin shuffled in. "Dale," the former said, "the word is that he's going to bite the dust tonight? You know anything about it?"  
"Dexter, I know everything," Beiderbeck chuckled sadistically. He reached under his desk and pulled out a clock reading 6:47:58. "Gentlemen," he announced to everyone present, "Tonight's episode of Jeopardy begins at 7:30. At exactly 7:58 and zero seconds, when the Final Jeopardy music ends, Adrian Monk will be joining his dear departed wife Trudy in the Great Beyond. But until then, let's sit back and enjoy a little Wheel, what do you say?" 


	2. Getting Ready for the Show

TWO  
The metal detector buzzed when Karen Stottlemeyer walked through it. "Empty your pockets, please," the guard on duty told her. Karen sighed and handed over a small video recorder. "Sorry, taping materials aren't allowed in the studio," he informed her.  
"Honey, there's no need to tape this," Stottlemeyer told her as they made their way to their seats, "This is going to be all over the evening news one way or another."  
"Hey, let's think positive about this, Captain," Dr. Kroger told him, "We should be proud that Adrian has this chance in the first place."  
"What surprises me is that he even got this in the first place," Sharona commented as they all sat down, "I didn't even know he'd applied until that acceptance form came in the mail two weeks ago."  
"I didn't even know he watched TV," Gail cut in. She turned to Disher next to her. "So Randy, you ever watch Jeopardy?"  
"Every day," Disher said in a way that hinted he was exaggerating, "You might say I know every category in and out. Alex Trebek's always been an idol of mine, back to when he was using his trusty Plinko stick every morning."  
Everyone turned to give him a strange look. "That's Bob Barker with the Plinko stick, not Alex Trebek," Benjy pointed out.  
"Uh, I know that," Disher said quickly, "I was just, uh, seeing if you guys were paying attention."  
"Um hmm," Stottlemeyer nodded, unconvinced.  
"Excuse me please," came a voice behind them. Sharona recognized it immediately. "Monica Waters!" she exclaimed, turning to face the woman who bore a more than passing resemblance to Trudy, "I'm surprised to see you here!"  
"Well, it was in the paper, so I couldn't resist getting a ticket and coming down to see the show," Monica told her, "How's he feeling about it?"  
  
"Nervous," Sharona said, "Very, very nervous."  
"You know, you should have gone over to his brother's," Disher told her, "He's throwing a major party for this, about as good for someone in his shape."  
"I prefer seeing Adrian in person, Lieutenant," Monica regarded him coolly, apparently not yet over the fact that the SFPD had almost charged her with two murders she hadn't committed.  
"Well at any rate, in about twenty minutes, the television world will never be the same again," Stottlemeyer said, checking his watch, "Because when Adrian Monk gets through with something, it always changes. Permanently."  
  
Ambrose Monk's doorbell rang again. "I'm coming," he announced, hustling over to open it. "Mr. Mayor, Mrs. Mayor, it's, uh, it's a pleasure to see you here," he said in awe, "Please, come in."  
"That's what we're here for, Mr. Monk," Warren St. Clair said, ushering in his wife Miranda and Deputy Mayor Sheldon Burger before him, "It's the least we can do for Adrian than to watch him in his moment of glory."  
"Or disaster," Miranda retorted. She hadn't warmed up to Adrian as much as her husband.  
"Hors d'voures are on the table in the kitchen," Ambrose said, pointing the way as he took the mayor's coat, "Drinks are in the fridge. We start in..."  
"Scott Gregorio!" Burger exclaimed, rushing over to baseball's best player, who was seated in Ambrose's recliner enjoying his own hors d'voure, "Fancy seeing you here! Can I have your autograph!?"  
"Sheldon," the mayor reprimanded him, "We're not here to sign autographs."  
"It's OK Mr. Mayor, I don't mind," Gregorio said, pulling out a sheet of paper to sign for Burger.  
"Uh, Ambrose," Cheryl Fleming came in from the kitchen. Sharona and Gail's mother had agreed to be Ambrose's main assistant for the evening, "We're almost out of brownies. Maybe you could run by the store after we're done with the current batch."  
"Uh, I'd rather not," Ambrose's face contorted at the thought of being outside the house for that amount of time, "Maybe Julie could do it once she gets out of the bathroom."  
There was a crashing sound from the den. "Not my files!" Ambrose cried, rushing in the find Jared and Max Stottlemeyer hastily trying to pick up pieces from the filing drawer they'd knocked over and spilled over the floor. "How could you do this!" he protested at them, "Now it's going to take me several good hours to clean this up!"  
"Well he started it!" Max pointed at his brother.  
"Did not you liar!" Jared shouted at him.  
"Okay, okay, okay," Cheryl separated them, "I think it's time for the two of you to find something else to do right now. Maybe you could talk with Detective Kirk. He hasn't met you yet, if I heard your father right."  
  
"But he's boring!" Jared protested, "Can't we stay with Scott Gregorio?"  
"Don't you think you've spent enough time with the poor baseball player?" Cheryl asked them.  
There was the honking of a motor home outside. "That can only be one person," Ambrose said. He flung open the door for music legend Willie Nelson. "Howdy," Nelson greeted him, "This is the right place for Monk's Jeopardy celebration, right?"  
"Yep, this is the place, I'm his brother, come on in," Ambrose told him, "We invited all the people he's helped over the years for this one."  
"Well, I hope he knows how many people he has helped," Nelson said, looking around at the fairly large turnout, "He's good person and he deserves it."  
"I know," Ambrose smiled at his brother's fortune. "So," he told Nelson as they went inside, "Adrian tells me Trudy loved your music...."  
  
"This dressing room needs serious cleaning," Adrian told Steve. It had clothing strewn everywhere, pictures weren't hung right, and he could spot serious dirt patches on the mirrors.  
"Well look at the bright side, Adrian, you'll only be in here a moment or two," Steve glanced down the hall and called, "Okay, bring in the makeup and mikes."  
"M-M-Makeup?" Adrian frowned at the thought of that.  
A dark-haired woman entered with a compact kit. "Hi, I'm Michelle Lake, I'll be doing your face for the camera," she told the detective.  
"Uh, no thanks, Michelle, I think my face is fine just the way it is," Adrian said, backing slowly away.  
"Adrian, you don't want to look like a ghost on national TV," she chided him, "Come on, be a good boy and..."  
"Maybe, just maybe, I'd like being a ghost on TV, in fact I am a ghost most of the time," he protested, "So I don't think the people at home will mind."  
"Adrian, it's for...." She began.  
"My face!" Adrian shouted, "A man's face is a sacred object! I don't mess with other people's faces, why does mine have to be befouled!?"  
  
Michelle threw up her hands in resignation. "I give up," she said out loud to nobody in particular. She turned and left.  
"Very nice done, Adrian," Steve told him. Adrian couldn't quite guess his emotion from his voice. "Thank you," he said, unable to think of something better to say.  
"So then, I guess we'd better get you miked then; Tim!" Steve called to another associate. "So Adrian, after the first commercial break, Alex is going to ask you something about yourself that's interesting or unusual, so we'd better decide now what you want to say," he told the contestant.  
"Oh, I'm miserable, twenty-four/seven," Adrian said.  
"Um, I was hoping for something a little more positive than that," Steve told him.  
"OK then, uh, there was this time I climbed up a Ferris wheel," Adrian said, thinking of the most positive thing off the top of his head.  
"Good, that'll work," Steve said.  
The microphone man came in with a lavaliere in hand. "If you'll just hold still, Mr. Monk, we'll have you ready to go in a second here," he said, taking holding of the left side of Adrian's tuxedo.  
"Careful now!" Adrian warned him, "The fabric's not completely sturdy, and I don't think Mrs. Ling will fix it for me anymore! You're going to tear it, not so hard! You've got it the wrong way!"  
It was Tim the mike man's turn to get frustrated. "All right, you think you know what you're doing, you put it on!" he snapped, handing Adrian the lav and leaving.  
"Thank you," Adrian called after him. He pulled out one of his remaining wipes and cleaned the microphone off thoroughly before putting in on his tux...only to take it off and put it back on repeatedly as he tried to get it perfectly straight.  
"While you're at that, Adrian, here's your contestants for today," Steve ushered in the other players, "This is the other challenger, Diane Coroli from Lubbock, Texas, and our champion, Oliver Harms from Hartford, Connecticut."  
"Pleasure," Adrian addressed Diane, an uptight businesswoman in dominatrix black, and Oliver, an ultra-nerd in a checkered suit, "Why won't this thing stay straight!?"  
"So you're the famous Adrian Monk," Diane regarded him sarcastically, "You've been all over the papers. They say you're brilliant but screwed up."  
"Well, um, some papers aren't exactly honest," Adrian said, finally getting the microphone the way he wanted it.  
"Let's let the game decide then," Oliver extended his hand. Adrian sighed and shook it, then reused the wipe he'd used on the mike. Diane extended her arm as well, forcing him to groan and use yet another one after he shook her hand.  
"Well then, if you're all ready, folks, let's play some Jeopardy, because we're on in five," Steve gestured for them to follow him down the hall toward the soundstage. Adrian gulped. The nervous feeling he had earlier was rapidly multiplying.  
  
"Am I too late?" Dr. Luis Navarre stuck his head in the door of Beiderbeck's cell.  
"Not at all, Doctor, come on in," Beiderbeck waved him inside, "I'd also like to say thank you for inspiring us to go ahead and do Mr. Monk in. Your relentless determination and willingness to sacrifice other lives for the cause of bringing him down are commendable."  
"Thank you," Dr. Navarre said, plopping down in an armchair Beiderbeck had managed to have brought in, "And I'd like to thank you for giving us this chance to see him die on TV, Mr. Beiderbeck."  
"Don't mention it, Doctor, I...ah, even more guests, please, come in," Beiderbeck waved to former San Francisco Police Commissioner Harry Ashcomb, mail bomber Brian Babbage, and former GPU maker Walker Browning, who sauntered in. "I'd also like to send another special thanks to you, Mr. Babbage, for giving us the idea for this hit," the fat man told him.  
"Well, thanks for taking note of my methods," Babbage said, leaning against the cell wall, as there were now no more seats available, "If I know my methods for doing in my siblings would be copied, I'd have gone to the Patent Office and register it."  
"Hey, I don't care, as long as we got to see a severed part of his body on TV after the explosion," Ashcomb said, "After all the misery he's caused all of us, he deserves it."  
"Well don't you worry, Commissioner, because with the lax TV standards of today that I love so much, we'll be able to see blood and guts galore after everybody in that studio's blown into a million pieces, which will be in," Beiderbeck rechecked his clock, "thirty-one minutes and ten seconds."  
  
"We're in position now," Steve told the director as he herded Adrian and the other contestants into place just outside the set. He led Adrian to the front of the line. "The moment you hear Johnny say, 'Now entering the studio are today's contestants,' walk out to the nearest stand," he directed the detective.  
"Right," Adrian said softly. His attention was taken by the size of the audience, which deeply unnerved him.  
"All right then, we're on in ten, nine, eight,..." Steve backed away, still counting. Adrian swallowed deeply. "Don't lose it now, Monk, don't lose it now," he said to himself, and was still trying to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing when the familiar Jeopardy music started and Johnny Gilbert's voice boomed out, "THIS...IS...JEOPARDY!" 


	3. Starting the ShowOver and Over Again

THREE  
"Okay, camera one, get the wide shot of the studio," director Sam Taylor said into his headphone. He was a thirteen-year veteran of the show and knew how to do it from top to bottom. "Now zoom in to the first podium as he comes out. Johnny, do the intros."  
"Now entering the studio are today's contestants," Gilbert went on over the loudspeakers, "A former police detective from San Francisco, Adrian Monk. A business executive from Lubbock, Tex...."  
He trailed off as the first contestant hadn't shown on stage. "Uh, Steve, what's going on back there?" Sam asked into the headphone.  
"Sam, Mr. Monk doesn't want to come out," Steve told him, "the crowd's got him nervous."  
"Well get him relaxed and tell him whatever it takes to get him over it," Sam said impatiently. "Cut, we'll take it from the top," he announced to the other crew members. He sighed to himself. He had really been hoping that tonight's show would go as smoothly as possible, for a variety of reasons. "Okay, everyone back to your positions, we're taking two in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, fade in music, two, cue Johnny."  
"THIS...IS...JEOPARDY!" Gilbert boomed again. "Now entering the studio are today's contestants. A former police detective from San Francisco, Adrian Monk..." Steve practically shoved Adrian out on stage to his podium. "...a business executive from Lubbock, Texas, Diane Coroli, and our returning champion, a computer programmer from Hartford, Connecticut, Oliver Harms, whose four day cash winnings total $30,752. And now, here is the host of Jeopardy, Alex Trebek!"  
Alex Trebek strolled on stage to a loud applause. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen," he told the audience, "Today our champion Oliver goes for a five day..."  
There was a loud crash as the podiums toppled over. "Cut!" Sam yelled, "Rob, what happened?"  
"Adrian was fooling with the podiums and knocked them over," one of the stagehands explained over the intercom.  
Sam groaned. "Tell me he didn't break them," he pleaded.  
Several stagehands hefted the podiums back up. "No, they're intact, thankfully," Rob informed him.  
"It wasn't lined up with the tape marks on the floor," Adrian said into the headset, "I was trying to straighten it out."  
"Okay guys, straighten it out so Mr. Monk won't have to worry," Sam sighed, "In the meantime, folks, let's take it from the top again."  
In the audience, Sharona had her head in her hands. "The show hasn't even started, and already he's embarrassing me!" she muttered to no one in particular.  
"You?" Stottlemeyer inquired, "How do you think I feel, Sharona?"  
"Well actually he's doing better than I thought he would," Disher commented.  
"How'd you think he was going to do?" Sharona had to know.  
"Well, Sharona, you know Monk, I thought he'd be scrubbing the floor down from end to end," Disher said.  
"Well I think he's doing just fine," Monica said in Adrian's defense.  
  
"Here we go again," Karen said as the music started up again. This time the introduction to the show went smoothly. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen," Trebek said again to the crowd, "Today our champion Oliver goes for the five day win. We'll see if either Adrian or Diane can keep him from that title, so contestants, pick up your signaling buttons, here comes the Jeopardy round."  
The board started flashing up its dollar amounts. "One daily double's on the board in one..." Trebek started saying.  
"Uh, Alex," Adrian held up his hand. Trebek seemed surprised. "Yes Adrian?" he asked.  
"The board didn't light up in sequence," Adrian explained.  
"Huh?" Trebek was confused.  
"This space always lights up first when you bring up the dollar amounts," Adrian walked over to the board and pointed to the square in question, "Then this one, then this one, then,..."  
"Well Adrian, what are we supposed to do about that?" Trebek posed.  
"Well, could you redo it?" Adrian asked. Then he walked over to Trebek and started fiddling with his clothes. "Adrian, what's going on here!?" Trebek sputtered.  
"Your tie, it's crooked, here, let me fix it for you, hold still," Adrian shuffled the tie around, "Boy this one's tough to get..."  
"CUT!!" came the cry from the control room loud enough for everybody in the studio to hear. "Steve, tell him if he disrupts taping again, we're going to glue his feet to the floor!" Sam could be heard screaming to everybody with a headset on.  
"No, no, please don't use glue, it'll ruin my shoes," Adrian said into the headset of the nearest stagehand.  
As the crew began resetting their positions again, Sharona stormed down from the audience. "So what was that all about!?" she demanded to her boss.  
"His tie," Adrian gestured to his neck area, "It was crooked."  
"It's insignificant, all right!" Sharona growled, "You're making all of us in the crowd upset, including myself.  
"His tie was...!"  
"Monk!" Stottlemeyer interrupted, coming up behind Sharona, "I asked you not to embarrass this department!"  
"Well they cut taping Captain, the department's not..."  
"Read my lips Monk; next stopping of taping and you lose not just the next paycheck but the two after that!" Stottlemeyer told him.  
"Uh, what percentage serious are you on that?" Adrian asked.  
"I'm a hundred percent dead serious, Monk!" Stottlemeyer thundered.  
"Uh, excuse me, could you two please go back to your seats?" Steve inquired the two of them. Sharona and Stottlemeyer nodded and trudged back to the audience. As she left, Sharona looked over her shoulder and whispered back, "Just suck it up!"  
"All right, I thought we agreed neither of us was going to suck it up anymore since..." Adrian called after her.  
"Adrian, why don't you just step back into place here..." Steve led him back to his podium, "And hopefully we can get the show going without any further disruptions."  
Adrian nodded. "I'm good now," he said out loud.  
"Oh that's really obvious!" Diane snorted next to him, "I came here to win big bucks, pal, and you're screwing us all up!"  
"Would...would it help if I said I was sorry?" Adrian offered.  
"Never mind," Oliver told him, "Everything will be over in a half hour anyway. And besides, I've buried my other opponents this week by a combined hundred thousand dollars, so you've really got your work cut out for you, Adrian, just keeping close to me."  
"Well, we'll see about that," Adrian said, scrubbing down his signaling button like there was no tomorrow. "Now what are you doing?" Diane asked, rolling her eyes.  
"They taped earlier today, I'm just making sure the button's clean," Adrian explained.  
"Hey Monk," demanded one of the cameramen nearby, "Don't worry about the button. It's the heat from these lights that'll be what kill you if you're not careful."  
"Oh hi Dave," Adrian greeted the cameraman cordially, "I hope you're not still mad at me for testifying in your last drunk driving case."  
"As a matter of fact Monk, I am," Dave snorted, "If you hadn't been paying your usual extraordinary good attention to the roads, I wouldn't have been demoted from stage manager on this show. Luckily for me Steve's willing to keep me on."  
"Well, not to sound dumb, but that's your fault that you can't stay away from the bottle," Adrian pointed out, "You're lucky, really, to still have your life. And besides, you nearly totaled Sharona's car, which wouldn't have been good, especially with her kid in the back seat."  
"So are you, Monk, because if I could get away with paying you back here, I would," Dave growled.  
"Camera 2, get back to work," came the order over the headset. Dave gave Adrian a parting glare before setting up his shot on the board. "Old friend of yours?" Oliver called down to his challenger.  
"Frequently," Adrian explained, "He has a penchant for alcohol. When I was an active cop, he kept causing disturbances in my precinct. Got really mad that I kept busting him."  
"Well at the rate you're going now, bub, you'll have the whole studio ready to kill you by the time tonight's over," Oliver chuckled.  
"I really fail to see the humor in that," Adrian pointed out.  
Back in the control room, Sam was reviewing the tape. "Okay Rick," he told the switcher, "set us up at the board shot. Everything from that last take before the whole board fiasco is usable. We'll just go to live after Alex says, 'Here comes the Jeopardy round.' So camera 3, get in position on the board, camera 4, get ready to do the category headers." He looked at the nearest page. "Ariel, go get me a cognac while we're getting set up," he told her.  
"Mr. Taylor, you know you're not supposed to drink during a show," the page informed him.  
"I think Mr. Monk might make me want to have some before this is all said and done," Sam said, worn out, "and I could care less what Merv would say."  
"We're about two minutes behind schedule," the assistant director told him, holding up his stopwatch, "Do you think we should drop frames like we usually do?"  
"Ray, if we drop any frames at this rate, we'll have to drop the whole show," Sam told him.  
"Then what should we do, kill Mr. Monk so it'll go smoother?" the AD suggested jokingly. A strange look cross Sam's face before he shook his head and said out loud, "Okay people, we are going on this take regardless of what happens."  
  
"So where the hell is it?" Dexter complained. The screen was just showing the station ID, as it had for the last five minutes.  
"No doubt the famous Mr. Monk is working his magic yet again," Stokes smirked.  
"I have little doubt," Dr. Navarre said.  
"Wait, here we go," Browning said as the famous Jeopardy intro began.  
  
"Excellent," Beiderbeck smiled, "For a moment there I was getting worried." He glanced over at his clock, which now read 7:33:29. "Just twenty-five more minutes and 'boom,'" he said.  
"Assuming our agent set everything up right," Van Rankin pointed out.  
  
"I have full confidence in our agent," Beiderbeck said, "Everything should be in order and on track." 


	4. Working Out a Few Minor and Major Diffic...

FOUR  
  
"One Daily Double is on the board in one of these categories," Trebek told the contestants, "Monarchs...Comic Book Supervillains...Network Slogans and Graphics...Extinct Animals...Infamous Hurricanes...and The Los Angeles Freeway System. Oliver, you get to start."  
"I'll take Extinct Animals for $800," Oliver told him.  
"May, may I make a suggestion for you," Adrian broke in before Trebek could read the answer, "Why not start with one of the corner values?"  
Oliver groaned at this intrusion. "All right pal, why would that be necessary for you?" he demanded.  
"Well, I just think that where you're starting is...well...asymmetrical," Adrian pointed out, "I mean, there's no logic in starting right in the middle of the board. In a corner, you could go smoothly either horizontally or vertically, see what I'm saying?"  
"Sure, I see what you're saying," Oliver said smarmily. Then he turned back to Trebek and repeated, "Extinct Animals for $800, Alex."  
In the audience, Stottlemeyer chuckled to the others. "Well, enjoy it now folks, because in a minute Monk's going to get buried alive," he said, "I'd be surprised if he makes it to the first commercial break."  
"My feelings exactly, sir," Disher said, clearly sucking up to his boss.  
"I think he'll prove the two of you quite wrong in the end," Monica said confidently.  
"Miss Waters, you don't really know Monk's other..." Stottlemeyer started to say, but Karen silenced him as Trebek began reading the clue: "Many believe that this extinct creature, which is not really a dinosaur, is the Loch Ness Monster. Adrian?"  
"Alex, I really...the audience is getting to me, could we tape this backstage?" Adrian asked again. Trebek ignored the request. "Adrian, do you have the answer to the question?" the host asked him.  
"Oh, what is the plesiosaur, now could we please get rid of the audience, Alex?" Adrian waved his arms around uncomfortably.  
"Uh, no Adrian, we can't get rid of the audience, but yes, that is correct, you now have control," Trebek said.  
"No he doesn't!" Diane spoke up, "I saw his ticker expire; he answered after it went off!"  
"Uh, judges?" Trebek turned to the three-person panel just offstage. There was a hushed consultation between them before the head judge turned and gave Trebek thumbs up. "It appears you just did get in under the gun, Adrian, so control does indeed rest in your hands," he told the former detective.  
"Hmm," Adrian studied the board carefully, "This is going to be tricky. I mean, I can't really go in any pattern now that he took one right in the middle of the board."  
"Well sorry I ruined your day, pal!" Oliver snorted down to him, "If I could take it back for you I would!"  
"Would you? That would be so nice, thank you." Adrian said.  
"He's being sarcastic, dipstick!" Diane whispered in his ear, "Now just pick something, anything! I'm not going to be here all night!"  
"You won't be, I'm normally in bed by ten anyway," Adrian told her out loud. Diane rolled her eyes.  
In the control, Sam was now a whirling dervish at Adrian's inactivity. "Somebody tell Alex to tell him to get going!" he hissed to everyone on stage, "We're on a tight schedule as it is!"  
"What's the rush, Sam?" the switcher asked him, "We're not under any..."  
"Because I say we have to get it done now!" Sam shot quickly at him, "I have a good reason, now get that fool going!"  
"Okay," Adrian was finally collecting himself, "I guess I'll go with Extinct Animals for $1,000, but you do realize it's not going to be even, Alex."  
Trebek gave Adrian a strange look. "The last North American vertebrate to become extinct, the last member of this species disappeared in 1987," he read the clue. "Adrian?"  
"What is the dusky seaside sparrow, now can we please...?"  
"Right, pick again."  
"Okay, um, Extinct Animals for, oh, $200."  
"The last passenger pigeon was named this, after the nation's first First Lady. Adrian?"  
"What is Martha."  
"Right."  
"Extinct Animals for $400," Adrian now had his eyes tightly shut so that he couldn't see the audience.  
"This Alaskan species sadly became extinct from overhunting just over twenty years after its discovery. Adrian?"  
"What is Stellar's sea cow."  
"Correct."  
"Extinct Animals for $600."  
"This relative of the zebra, with stripes only on its rear, became extinct in 1883. Adrian?"  
"What is the quagga."  
"Exactly."  
Adrian opened his eyes briefly to study the board. "Um, I guess Infamous Hurricanes for $200's the best ticket," he said.  
"At first meteorologists paid little attention to this storm. But when it slammed into Florida in 1992, the cleanup crews certainly did. Adrian?"  
"What was Hurricane Andrew."  
"Right."  
"Infamous Hurricanes for $400."  
"As one of only four hurricanes in the twentieth century to reach the maximum wind speed of 180 miles per hour, it tore apart the Caribbean in September of 1988 before slamming into the Mexican coast just south of Brownsville. Adrian?"  
"What was Hurricane Gilbert."  
"Right."  
"Infamous Hurricanes for $600."  
"One of the most celebrated of twentieth century hurricanes, this Category 4 level storm in 1900 all but destroyed this Texas city. Adrian?"  
  
"What is Galveston."  
"A hurricane in Galveston, right."  
"Infamous hurricanes for $800."  
"In 1954 this rare major October hurricane carved a path of destruction all the way up the east coast into Canada. Adrian?"  
"What was Hurricane Hazel."  
"Indeed it was."  
"Infamous hurricanes for $1,000."  
"The first male-named hurricane to have its name retired, in 1979. Adrian?"  
"What was Hurricane David."  
"Correct."  
"The Los Angeles Freeway System for $200."  
"It's called the San Diego Freeway, even though it never comes close to that city. Adrian?"  
"What is Interstate 405."  
"Right."  
"The Los Angeles Freeway System for $400."  
"The Glenn Anderson Freeway, the most recently completed L.A. freeway, also goes by this name. Adrian?"  
"What is the Century Freeway."  
"Right."  
"Okay, tell Alex that we're going to commercial after the next question," Sam instructed the people in the studio. He glanced at his watch. He was still right on time...  
"The Los Angeles Freeway System for $600."  
"One of the three names given to Interstate 10 during its course through L.A. Adrian?"  
"What are the Redlands Freeway, San Bernardino Freeway, and Santa Monica Freeway."  
"We only needed one, Adrian, but all three are correct, and that brings your total to $7,200, with your opponents yet to get on the board, but the game is still early, and a lot can still happen. We'll take a short break and learn some more about our contestants after these messages." Adrian breathed big sigh of relief; the audience was almost unbearable now.  
In the audience, Monica leaned over Stottlemeyer's shoulder. "So, you were saying about Adrian folding like a cheap tent?" she inquired.  
"All right, I spoke too soon Miss Waters, so kill me!" Stottlemeyer said.  
"Actually, I think he's doing better than any of us planned," Gail commented, "I mean, those are high-caliber players out there."  
"Well he should still be careful," Disher said, "Because if he isn't he might hit a Bankrupt, and that would be bad."  
"The Bankrupt's on Wheel of Fortune," Benjy told him.  
"Uh, I knew that."  
"I'd better go have a word with him," Sharona rose to her feet.  
"So would I, Sharona, "Dr. Kroger followed her down. Their patient was scrubbing down his name screen with the wipe. "So Adrian, you doing OK so far?" his nurse asked him.  
"Great, Sharona, but this stain here's pretty pesky, don't know why I didn't notice it before..."  
"Adrian," Dr. Kroger put a hand on his shoulder, "Would you like us to do something about the audience for you?"  
"Yes, Doctor, can you go outside and...?"  
"Adrian, we can't leave, but if you like, I could have them put up a scrim or something so that you can't see them," Dr. Kroger offered.  
"You can't do that, bub!" Dave the cameraman shouted from nearby, "I won't be able to get my shot right if he's blocked off by a scrim!"  
"Oh just let them!" Diane shouted at him, "Anything to get him to stop whining and let us play the game!"  
"You know I don't like the way you're treating him!" Sharona rounded on Adrian's fellow contestant.  
"Oh what're you going to do, beat me up if I don't stop?" Diane challenged her.  
"You, you don't want to get her mad," Adrian pointed out to his neighbor, "Sharona's like, well, a Doberman with rabies if the people she cares for get hurt. She threatened to strip a bully who was picking on her son naked and hang him from the top of the Pyramid if he didn't..."  
Sharona was now giving him a look that told him to end the conversation. Sharona gave Diane a parting glare before heading back to her seat. "And you know the rest," he finished.  
"Oh well, it doesn't matter," Oliver spoke up, "I've come from behind three of my four shows so far, so watch yourself, Adrian, because I'll be breathing right down your neck by the next commercial break."  
"Uh, do you mean that figuratively or literally?" Adrian asked, concerned.  
"Whatever makes you crack more," Oliver retorted. Adrian didn't like the sound of that.  
  
"Well gentlemen, I'd say our good friend Mr. Monk is doing fabulous so far, don't you?" Beiderbeck asked his associates.  
"Ah, I'd only call it so-so," Dexter snorted, "These questions are too easy."  
"So you know about that dusk sparrow or whatever the one question was, smart guy?" Stokes grilled him.  
"Well, maybe not THAT one, but most of them are things any sane human being would know," Dexter said in defense.  
"So you're saying we're not sane!?" Van Rankin said, "That you're above us!?"  
"No I'm not, Pat, you know..."  
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Beiderbeck held up his hand, "We will not descend into petty fighting today. Today is our celebration day of Adrian Monk's death, and I won't let our little coalition fall apart because some of you think you're smarter than others."  
"Well some of us ARE smarter than the others, Dale," Ashcomb said, "And don't give us any of that presidential talk about...."  
"Hey Harry, was that directed at me!?" Babbage yelled at him, "Mr. Ramps-in-the-Road? All you did was make a phony phone call and find some metal; it took me three months to build those bombs!"  
"Well at least I was smart enough not to get myself knocked unconscious, stupid!" Ashcomb retorted. A general quarrel broke out among the convicts over their IQ levels. Beiderbeck rolled his eyes in disgust at his partners' thickness. He glanced over at the clock again: 7:38:43.... 


	5. Heading into Hyperspace

FIVE  
"It's not going to completely cover up the audience," Adrian fussed as the stagehands finished setting in place the scrim to block the crowd off from him.  
"It's the best we can do, mac," one of them told him.  
"Hey Monk," one of the judges piped up, "You should be used to this by now. They've been giving you the special treatment your whole life, even those times when you didn't deserve it."  
"Oh hi Susan," Adrian greeted her, "Didn't realize you were here."  
"Another friend?" Oliver asked him.  
"Yep," Adrian confided in him, "She was salutatorian in my class. Kind of disgusted that I beat her out for every major award. She wrote in my yearbook after graduation, 'Congratulations, Adrian. Now I'll wreck your life if it's the last thing I ever do.' Very touching."  
"And that's still in effect, Monk," Susan snorted, "I've been waiting a long time to see you fall, and if I could, I'd penalize you here for every mistake you make, but I almost forgot you're perfect."  
"Oh I'm not perfect, very far from it," Adrian admitted.  
"I hated your stupid comments almost as much," Susan said bitingly, "To think that the teachers catered to a nut like you over..."  
"Quiet on the set, we're on again in five, four, three, two, bring up music," came Sam's voice over the intercom. Adrian gave Susan a forgiving smile, which she didn't return, as the show went back on the air. "And we're back with our contestants," Trebek told the viewing audience, "Adrian Monk, whom I've been told is the first contestant in this show's history to have obsessive compulsive disorder, you climbed up a Ferris wheel once as part of a case?"  
"Yes Alex," Adrian told him, "We...we were trying to clear a member of the San Francisco police who'd been framed for murder, and when we'd figured out who'd framed him, we traced him to a carnival. My assistant Sharona, who's kind enough to be here tonight, got up on the Ferris wheel to see if she could spot the suspect, and she found out the hard way he was up on the wheel with her, and I had to climb up the wheel, which was against my better judgment, to save her, which I did in the nick of..."  
"Wait a minute Adrian!" Sharona was now on her feet, looking rather upset. The cameras all swung around to show her to the viewing public. "May I remind you that I only went up on the Ferris wheel because you were too chicken to do it yourself!?"  
"Well you know, I'm...me, I'm supposed to be too chicken," Adrian said in self-defense.  
"Oh and while I'm at it, let me inform the public that you climbed up because you were too inept to stop the wheel with the controls, even though you said you knew what you were doing!" Sharona ranted.  
"Uh, Mom," Benjy gave his mother's coat an anxious tug, "My friends are watching!" Sharona paid no attention. "You're lucky Stottlemeyer and the others showed up on time, or I would have been killed with or without you!" she bellowed.  
"I get her like this all the time, Alex, this is normal," Adrian explained to the host. Trebek shrugged. "Well, all I can say, Adrian, is that you and your assistant must have an interesting working relationship," he said.  
Back in prison, Stokes was grinning ear to ear. "I love free publicity," he said to the other convicts, "I just hope that pig Kirk was watching; might teach him a little something about the people he trusts."  
"Ah yes, cops do lead interesting lives, Leonard," Beiderbeck said, "I should know, I have dossiers on half the force in San Francisco, and a good quarter of them lead deplorable personal lives."  
"In that case, why don't we go blackmail them after this affair ends?" Gold suggested, "After all, our grudges against the S.F.P.D. don't end at Adrian Monk."  
"Interesting thought, Dexter, but we might as well wait until this blows over," Beiderbeck said, "Move too soon and we'll arouse suspicion." He shifted around more on his bed. "This is my favorite part of the show, though," he told the others, "Watching the contestants pour out the embarrassing parts of their miserable, wasted lives, not like us, gentlemen, not like us."  
  
Back in the studio, Trebek moved up the line. "Diane Coroli from Lubbock, who saved a child from a bull down in Mexico; how did that come about?" he asked.  
"Well, we were down visiting friends in a small town called San Tapoco, and we decided to attend a bullfight that was being held in the square," Diane explained, "and as the matador was waving the cape around to avoid the bull's charge, a four-year-old boy fell into the ring. He was wearing a red shirt, so the bull immediately made a beeline for him. I was right up front, and I realized what was about to happen, so I jumped down, scooped him up, and..."  
"Excuse me," Adrian interrupted, "You're making this story up."  
"No I'm not!" Diane protested.  
"Uh, yes you are, because contrary to popular belief, bulls can't see the color red, so there's no way it could have been attracted to a red shirt," Adrian pointed out, "And San Tapoco was the name of the village in Three Amigos; this whole story is a fabrication, likely to please the crowd, I guess."  
Steam poured from Diane's ears. "All right, I'm making it up, happy!?" she barked.  
"Well, yes," Adrian said matter-of-factually.  
"Oookay," Trebek said quickly, "Our returning champ Oliver Harms has by now probably told all the anecdotes he can, so Oliver, all I can ask is, what do you plan to do with your winnings?"  
"Well, I do need to pay off some loans, so I'll take care of that first, and then I'll take the family on a world cruise," Oliver said, "Lisa's always wanted to go on one, so honey (he spoke directly into the camera facing him), better get packed, because we'll be cruising any day now."  
"You also might be interested, Lisa, in knowing that Oliver here is cheating on you," Adrian said into the same camera.  
"Oh no you don't!" Oliver snapped, "That's a bold faced lie!"  
"It could be, except that I noticed in your wallet in the dressing room when you were giving Steve the coordinator your social security card a picture of a woman with a romantic message and her name signed on it—Jane, Jean, or Joan, I couldn't quite make it out, her penmanship isn't the best—but since wives generally wouldn't do that, I'd safely assume you've been going with another woman," Adrian theorized.  
Oliver looked deathly pale. "D-D-D-Don't l-listen to him, honey, this man is borderline insane!!" he pleaded over the air to his wife.  
"Oh, there she is now, in the back corner," Adrian pointed over the scrim to a red-haired woman, who promptly jumped up and ran off as the cameras caught her on national TV, "I guess since you're in love with..."  
"Um, you're not going to uncover anything unpleasant about me, are you Adrian?" Trebek asked, looking at the detective with concern.  
"Uh, no Alex, you're, you're kosher," Adrian told him.  
"Good, because the last thing I'd want would be the sponsors pulling the plug on me for some crime I did twenty years ago," Trebek said, relieved.  
In the audience, Disher was impressed. "Wow, how many of you saw that coming?" he asked the others.  
"What can I say, Randy, with Monk there's never a dull moment," Stottlemeyer said.  
"Yep," Disher added, "Who needs reality TV when Monk's around?"  
"I wonder?" Sharona said with a mixture of agreement and sarcasm. Turning to face Monica, she said, "In fact, now that he brought infidelity up out there, let me just thank you," she told her, "You're probably the only person we've met over the last two years at least that has any marital fidelity...apart from Adrian himself, that is."  
"Is that true?" Monica was impressed.  
"Oh yeah," Sharona told her, "Half the cases we get end up with husbands and wives killing each other for whatever reason." After checking to make sure Benjy wasn't paying attention to her, she whispered, "And just between you and me, if I could get away with it, I'd happily do in my ex, the sniveling sneak."  
"Adrian said something to the extent when he was sleeping over that you and your husband weren't on the best of terms," Monica admitted.  
"Tell me about it," Sharona whispered, "Just recently in fact he came back and put on this song and dance routine about how he'd gotten his life back on..."  
"They're starting again Sharona," Gail told her sister. Sharona cut off the conversation and turned back to the stage. "Anyway Adrian, you had control when we left off, pick again," Trebek told him.  
"Adrian," Oliver whispered down to him, murder burning in his eyes, "Now you're going down harder than you can possibly imagine!"  
"Oh, I probably can imagine it," Adrian whispered back, "My wife's death was harder than I could possibly imagine, and nothing could possibly hit me harder than that."  
"Well I will!" Oliver growled.  
"Uh, Oliver, do you have something you'd like to share with us?" Trebek asked him.  
"Uh, no Alex," Oliver said quickly.  
"Then please let Adrian make his selection," the host told him.  
Up in the control room, Sam took a swig of the cognac. "It's now official," he told everyone else, "Tonight's show is now officially a circus, so somebody call for the clowns, please."  
"Well at least Alex is holding up well," Ariel said, "It's a good thing he's such a consummate professional."  
"True," Sam admitted, "I doubt John Davidson would still be standing by this point." He checked his watch again. Still on time...  
"I'll continue with The Los Angeles Freeway system for $800," Adrian said.  
"The Foothill Freeway's Interstate 210 section has its eastern terminus in San Dimas, and its western terminus in this valley community," Trebek read, "Adrian?"  
"What is San Fernando."  
"That's right."  
"The Los Angeles Freeway System for $1,000."  
"Known as 'The road to nowhere' due to its lack of reference points, Interstate 605 is known by this watery title. Adrian?"  
"What is the San Gabriel River Freeway."  
"Correct."  
"Switching back over the board, I'll go with Monarchs for $200."  
"Currently King of Norway, he ascended to the throne in 1990. Adrian?"  
"Who is King Harald V."  
"Right."  
"Monarchs for $400."  
"Call him the unluckiest of husbands: this Russian tsar was overthrown by his army in 1663 and replaced with his wife, Catherine the Great. Adrian?"  
"Who was Tsar Peter III."  
"Indeed."  
"Monarchs for $600."  
"Contrary to popular belief, Louis XVI wasn't France's last Bourbon king; this ruler, overthrown in 1830, was. Adrian?"  
"Who was Charles X."  
"Exactly."  
"Monarchs for $800."  
"And there we find the Daily Double," Trebek said as the Daily Double music roared, "Now Adrian, needless to say, you are completely dominating this game right now with $10,200, compared with nothing for both of your opponents, so technically you can be liberal right now. How much will you wager?"  
"Um, to be honest, Alex, I don't gamble, so why don't we just skip this part?" Adrian suggested.  
"Uh, no Adrian, we can't skip it, so how much are you going to wager?" Trebek pressed.  
"You know, the whole Daily Double thing is kind of stupid when you think about it, are you sure we can't bypass it, just for tonight?" Adrian counterpressed.  
"I'm sorry, we can't."  
"Okay then, I guess I'll bet...zero dollars."  
"Adrian, you might want to bet a little bit more than that," Trebek was looking a little frustrated now.  
"Okay," Adrian thought really hard, "Make it...zero hundred dollars."  
Ripples of laughter swept through the audience. Sharona put her hands to her face again in disgust. "Here we go again," she said to no one in particular.  
"Adrian, this is the Daily Double, you have to bet at least half the money!" Trebek said, exasperated.  
"Are you a hundred percent sure I have to?"  
"I'm a hundred and two thousand percent sure, Adrian, because that's the way we've been doing it for over twenty years!" Trebek shouted at him. Now the audience completely broke up in laughter.  
"Well, if you insist," Adrian shrugged, "I guess I'll take half."  
"Thank you!" Trebek said with finality. "Anyway, here's the clue: It's the name that's been given to six rulers of both Morocco and the Ottoman Empire, by far the most popular in each realm."  
"What is Mohammed, or Mehmed, as the Ottomans said."  
"That's correct, and that brings your total to $15,300," Trebek said over the applause, "Now that wasn't so hard Adrian, was it?"  
"Well, it kind of was, Alex, but I..."  
"Never mind," Trebek quickly interrupted, "The board's still yours."  
  
"Um, Monarchs for $1,000."  
"This Japanese emperor, who ruled until 1928, was known as the Taisho. Adrian?"  
"Who was Emperor Yoshihito."  
"Yoshihito, right."  
"Comic Book Supervillains for $200."  
"Is his real name Eddie Nashton or Edward Nygma? Hmm, that's an interesting question. Adrian?"  
"Who is the Riddler."  
"Right."  
"Comic Book Supervillains for $400."  
"Mark Mangon stole meteorological technology from his brother Clyde and became this core Silver Age Flash villain. Adrian?"  
"Who is Weather Wizard."  
"Right."  
"Comic Book Supervillains for $600."  
"One of the four men to take up the mantle of the Hobgoblin. Adrian?"  
"Who are Ned Leeds, Roderick Kingsley, Lefty Donovan, and Jason Macendale, who was previously Jack O'Lantern."  
"Again we only needed one, Adrian, but you once again nailed them all," Trebek said, getting confirmation from Susan, who shot Adrian a dirty glance.  
"Comic Book Supervillains for $800."  
"After being thrown out of the Green Lantern Corps for corruption, this devilish villain sought refuge on the evil planet of Qward. Adrian?"  
  
"Who is Sinestro."  
"Right, we have less than a minute to go in the round."  
"Comic Book Supervillains for $1,000."  
"Zebediah Killgrave had an accident with toxic gas and became this colorful Daredevil heavy. Adrian?"  
"Who is the Purple Man."  
"Indeed."  
"Network Slogans and Graphics for $200."  
"This popular sequence, which ran for fourteen years, took viewers through a mock city, complete with buses and milk trucks, before zooming into space for an encounter with a monolith. Adrian?"  
"What is 'Stargate,' a.k.a. HBO Feature Presentation, a.k.a HBO in Space."  
"HBO Feature Presentation, right."  
"Network Slogans and Graphics for $400."  
"NBC launched its comeback campaign in 1983 by asking its viewers this. Adrian?"  
"What is, 'Let's All Be There.'"  
"NBC, let's all be there, right."  
"Network Slogans and Graphics for $600."  
"This network's slogan in the mid 90s was, 'The Remote Stops Here.' Adrian?"  
"What is USA."  
"The USA Network, correct."  
"Network Slogans and Graphics for $800."  
"For much of the 80s, ABC opened its primetime movies with a trip down one of these. Adrian?"  
"What is a star tunnel."  
"The famous Star Tunnel, right."  
The "time's up" buzzer sounded. "And that means the round's over, and Adrian, what can I say, you're on a role the likes of which we've never seen before," Trebek commented over the massive applause, thoroughly impressed, "You have amassed so far $21,300, which is a first round record, is it not?" he asked the judges, who nodded emphatically, "And what's more amazing, both Diane and Oliver have absolutely nothing to their score. Can they possibly catch up with him? We'll find out in a moment when we play the Double Jeopardy round, so whatever you do, don't go away folks."  
The applause thundered again as the music went back up. "Hey Monk," the detective heard Susan whisper to him over it, "Don't get too comfortable. This is the last happy moment you'll ever enjoy."  
"Hey, I'd have traded valedictorian for you if you'd have asked," Adrian called back, "I wanted to bury the hatchet, you just wouldn't let me in."  
"Nobody let you in, you idiot!" Susan growled, "And after tonight, don't be surprised you're left an empty, rotting shell!"  
"What that supposed to mean?" Adrian asked. Susan ignored him and went back to the other judges. Adrian shrugged.  
"You think you can hide behind your intellect façade, Adrian, but it won't change the fact that you're a retarded freak!" Diane snarled at him.  
  
"Yeah," Oliver added, "We'll still catch you in the end, because you can't handle the pressure!"  
"Why don't you just shut your faces!" Sharona yelled at them, having come down again to check on her boss. "Well Adrian, you're doing better than any of us could have imagined," she told him, "You're driving us nuts with those Daily Double ticks, but overall you're doing admirable. Do you need anything?"  
"Uh, ,yeah, one thing I've noticed is that light up there seems to be dimming a bit," Adrian pointed to the light in question, directly above him, "It started out fine, but now it's starting to flicker a bit."  
"I can't fix that, Adrian," Sharona said, "but I'll put in a word with the staff."  
"Good. What's the time anyway? I hope I haven't pushed the show off its time frame."  
"It's uh," Sharona checked her watch, "7:44. We're still on time."  
"Good," Adrian smiled. As Sharona left, he looked back up at the light. There was something unnerving about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then his attention was taken by the dirt mark on the name screen that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He started wiping it down again... 


	6. Mr Monk in Double Jeopardy

SIX  
"You've got the vertical part of the D too long!" Adrian fussed as Rob the stagehand worked to redraw the detective's erased name on his screen, "No, that's too big of a dot on the I!"  
"Look pal, if you hadn't been screwing around with it, we wouldn't have to be going through with this right now!" Rob told him, "So just let me redo this without any interference, OK?"  
"I guess so," Adrian shrugged, "It was a dirt smudge, though, see?" He held up his wipe for Rob to see. Rob nodded softly and walked off, saying, "Don't touch it again!" over his shoulder.  
"So Adrian, is there anything else you need from us before we start Round 2?" Steve asked him from the wings.  
"Uh sure, if you can get that light to stop blinking, that would be good," Adrian pointed to the one in question above him. Its flashing had gotten worse since he'd last looked at it.  
"If you'd brought it up earlier, Adrian, we might have been able to fix it, but we're too far into taping now," Steve told him. "I wouldn't worry about it; it's not in an important position, as you can see."  
"Who did put it up?" Adrian had to know.  
"Your guess would be as good as mine," Steve shrugged, "Mike our regular light technician called in sick today, and the director assigned somebody to handle it—I don't know who, he always leaves me out of the loop on these things. It could have been anybody, as far as I know."  
"Okay crew, get in positions, we're going in one minute," came Sam's voice over the intercom. Steve gave Adrian a pat on the back and scurried off. Adrian couldn't take his eyes off the light. There was just something about it that was bothering him, and wasn't just the blinking...  
  
"I think what we're witnessing here today may be history," Karen said to the others, "If Adrian can hold his own here, it might make a great documentary."  
"The big question being 'if,' sweetheart," Stottlemeyer reminded her, "Nothing's ever a given with Monk."  
"Hey Leland, seeing what Adrian's done so far, I'd say he'd deserve a documentary regardless," Karen told him, "It's not every day that a man with OCD smashes his way to a Jeopardy win."  
"Well then for your own sake just do this show, because otherwise you'd have to go through Monk's life, and that'll leave you with a forty- eight hour documentary that nobody'll watch, as if they really watch them anyway," her husband said.  
"Are you insulting me, Leland?" his wife told sternly.  
"No, not at all honey," Stottlemeyer said quickly.  
"If you do make it, please put me on it," Monica asked Karen, "I'd love to put my five cents in on his brilliance."  
"Thirty seconds," came the sound over the intercom. "I can't wait to the final round," Disher said to everyone, "Because you never know, he might use us for the Phone-a-Friend."  
Everyone groaned. "Randy, you're not allowed to talk about game shows for the rest of the night, okay?" Stottlemeyer told him.  
"What?" Disher looked confused, "What did I say?"  
  
"This should be the last commercial," Ambrose said, pointing at the one on his screen.  
"How can you tell?" Detective Adam Kirk had to know.  
"The allotted one hundred and twenty seconds are almost up," Ambrose said, showing him his watch, which read 7:46:49.  
"It's easy to see why you and he are brothers," would-be attorney Julie Parlo told Ambrose admiringly.  
"It's a blessing," Ambrose said, "And a curse." He strode into the kitchen. "Pot roast is almost done," he said, taking a peek in the oven, "Now you're all staying afterwards, right?"  
"I, uh, unfortunately have some work back at city hall," Burger said, looking like he was making it up.  
"Well, I guess if you'd like I could send you a portion afterwards," Ambrose offered, "All you have to do is heat it back up and..."  
"Thanks, but I'll pass," Burger said, holding up his hands.  
The doorbell rang again. "Now who could it be this late?" Ambrose wondered. He opened the door to find a nerdy face greeting him. "Uh, it's Kevin, right?" he asked the newest arrival.  
"That's me," Adrian's former neighbor said with a big smile, "And you must be Ambrose. Adrian told me lots of things about you, mostly negative, but I..."  
"Uh, won't you come in?" Ambrose waved him in before the conversation could get too uncomfortable. "Hiya folks," Kevin greeted the others in Ambrose's living room, "I take it you're all the people Adrian's helped over the years? Boy I'm glad to know I'm not the only one, you see, this devil woman tried to seduce me out of this winning lottery ticket, and she left me on the train tracks to die, and Adrian showed up at the last minute and, well, I can't remember much else, because I was kind of drunk, but anyway, he..."  
"Will you just sit down and be quiet!" Miranda St. Clair snapped, jerking her finger toward the nearest open sofa.  
"Sure thing," Kevin grinned taking a seat next to Nelson, "So you're the real Willie Nelson?" he asked the singer, "I heard 'You Are Always on My Mind' live once and..."  
"Here it comes," Cheryl announced as the music came back on. Kevin immediately silenced himself...for three seconds. "You know, I've been watching this since before Alex came on board," he said to Jared, who turned a deaf ear, "I mean, he really adds some chemistry to the show that..."  
"I can see your practice time with your brother the other day really came in handy," Cheryl told Ambrose as he plopped back down in his armchair.  
"Oh he really didn't need too much of it," Ambrose admitted, "He was always the super genius. I just helped him fill in the few blanks in his memory. It's a thrill to finally have him coming back over a regular basis again. I hope this means Dad'll be back soon, too, because he'd be so proud watching him on TV," he checked to make sure the VCR was recording the show, which it was, "I'll have it all ready on tape for him when he comes back."  
  
There was a knock on the bars of Beiderbeck's cell. "Ladies, please do come in," the fat man said to murderous socialite Christine Rutherford and disgraced actress Jenna Ryan, who just managed to slide into the cramped confines of the cell. "Vicki couldn't come?" Beiderbeck inquired.  
  
"She had to go to an emergency meeting with her lawyer, so unfortunately she had to pass," Christine explained, "We're not too late, are we? It would be a shame for you boys to have all the fun."  
"No, there's still..." Beiderbeck checked his clock again, "eleven minutes and one second to zero hour. Dr. Navarre, Mr. Ashcomb, would you please be so kind as to offer the ladies your seats?"  
"Do we have to?" Dr. Navarre whined.  
"Yes, you do," the fat man told him. With sighs, the doctor and the former commissioner rose to their feet and let the women sit down. "How's the rat doing?" Jenna inquired.  
"In pure Monk style, he's blowing them right out of the water," Van Rankin told her, "It's not even close."  
"And here comes Double Jeopardy," Beiderbeck pointed at the screen. "Dollar values are doubled in the Double Jeopardy round," Trebek told the contestants, "With two Daily Doubles in one of these categories: Cartoon Voice Actors...Baseball Hall of Famers...Steve Martin Movies...Game Show Bonus Rounds, very fitting...Constellations...and finally, keeping with our highway theme, The Pennsylvania Turnpike. Oliver, as the player on my left, you get the tiebreaker on who goes first, please select an answer."  
"Um," Oliver gave Adrian a rather harsh smile and said, "Steve Martin Movies for $1,600."  
"Steve played a phony preacher fleecing a small Midwest town in this 1992 film. Adrian?"  
"Um," Adrian was distracted by the flickering light again before he collected himself and answered just under the buzzer, "What is Leap of Faith."  
"Correct, your move again."  
"Um," Adrian scanned the board, "It's out of whack here again...Steve Martin Movies for $2,000."  
"In this offbeat film Steve played Dr. Michael Hffhurrr, who falls in love with a disembodied brain named Ann Uumalmehaye. Adrian?"  
"What is The Man with Two Brains."  
"Right."  
"Steve Martin movies for $400."  
Steve took the role of the overburdened father in the remake of this 1950 classic starring Spenser Tracy. Adrian?"  
"What is Father of the Bride."  
"Exactly."  
"Steve Martin Movies for $800." Diane coughed slightly in Adrian's direction. He leaned uncomfortably out of her way.  
"'Those aren't pillows!' is one of the many memorable lines from this 1987 holiday flicked that starred Steve and John Candy. Adrian?"  
Diane coughed at the top of her lungs at her opponent, apparently trying cause him to lose his cool. Adrian winced in pain and sank downward, but still managed to answer, "What is Planes, Trains and Automobiles."  
"Indeed," Trebek gave Diane a quizzical look.  
"Tell him to stand up higher," came the order over the headphones. The stage manager jerked his finger upward at Adrian, who nodded and rose. "I'll have Steve Martin Movies for $1,200," he told the host.  
"Steve played Philip, who nearly loses his mind keeping his help hotline under control in this 1994 film. Adrian?"  
"What is Mixed Nuts."  
"Right."  
"Uh, Game Show Bonus Rounds for $400."  
"Winners of the front game on Tic-Tac-Dough would go on to face this hot villain for a prize package. Adrian?"  
"What is the dragon."  
"Right."  
"Game Show Bonus Rounds for $800."  
"Behind that, the first Daily Double," Trebek announced, "Now Adrian, you now have $28,700, and have still shut your opponents out. You must wager at least $14,350 here, and please keep in mind that zero hundred dollars is not a reasonable bid, so with that in mind, what's your wager?"  
  
"Um," Adrian thought it over carefully, "I'll try...zero thousand dollars."  
Outright laughter swept the studio. Trebek put his hands over his face. "Adrian, we're not going through this again," he told the detective, "Let's just take half again, all right?"  
Adrian shrugged, "Sure, why not?"  
"All right, for an additional $14,350, here's the clue," Trebek said, "In Super Password, this bonus round was called the Super Password Round. Previously, in Password Plus, it was called this."  
"What is Alphabetics."  
"Alphabetics is correct, and that takes you now to $43,050," Trebek said as the audience exploded into applause, "You just keep rolling along here, Adrian. Select again."  
"Game Show Bonus Rounds for $1,200."  
"Big Numbers was the name of this show's bonus round. Adrian?"  
"What is High Rollers."  
"Right."  
"Is it true that you were drunk during the final episode of your run of the show?" Adrian inquired. Trebek shifted around uncomfortably. "Pick again, Adrian," he told the contestant.  
"Okay, Game Show Bonus Rounds for $1,600."  
"To win the cash jackpot on Scrabble, contestants had to solve two words in this much time. Adrian?"  
"What is ten seconds."  
"Right."  
"Game Show Bonus Rounds for $2,000."  
"This show's bonus round gave contestants the chance to win a car by lighting up the six screens out of twelve given that pertained to the same category. Adrian?"  
"What is Wipeout."  
"Indeed."  
"Constellations for $400."  
"Regulus is the brightest star in this constellation, which is also the fifth sign of the zodiac. Adrian?"  
"What is Leo."  
"Right."  
"Constellations for $800."  
"In keeping with the mythology around it, this constellation is never in the sky at the same time as Orion. Diane?"  
"What is Scorpio." Diane blurted out extra fast. She turned to Adrian and snorted, "Ha! You're not so perfect now, are you?"  
"Ac, Actually you're wrong there," Adrian said, "It's not ScorpiO, it's ScorpiUS. They changed it for Lord knows what reason when they came up with the zodiac."  
"Hey don't be a sore winner, Adrian!" Diane snarled at him, "Let me have this one!"  
"Unfortunately, Diane, I'm afraid Adrian's right," Trebek said, looking at the judges, "It is officially Scorpius. We'll have to dock you the eight hundred dollars, so you're now in the..."  
The rejection was too much for Diane. She slammed her signaling button to the floor and began spewing every curse word in the English language at the top of her lungs. Adrian covered his ears in shock, as did half the audience. In the control room, Sam rushed over to the controls. "Quick, bleep it out, Ray!" he yelled.  
"I can't," Ray told him, "There is no bleep button."  
"What do you mean there's no bleep button!?" Sam demanded.  
"Well, I guess they figured that no one would curse on Jeopardy," Ray admitted.  
"So because of that this is going out live over the country. Perfect!" Sam lamented. He looked around, feeling helpless. Just then Ariel ran into the control room, looking terrified. "Sam, I think you'd better come see this," she said in a weak voice.  
"I can't leave now," Sam told her, "What is it?"  
"Mike's been murdered!"  
"What do mean murdered?"  
"I just saw his body in the woman's restroom; his neck was broken!" Ariel said breathlessly, "We've got to call the cops!"  
"All right, I'll do it after the show," Sam said, sounding unconcerned and unsurprised by what he'd just been told. "Do any of you know who was last with him?" he asked the surrounding crew.  
"I might have, about two hours ago," Rick spoke up, "He was with either Dave or Susan, I think, it was too hard to tell, since they look so much alike."  
"Okay, we'll ask them afterwards," Sam said. He looked at the monitor in front of him, where Diane was still going strong. "Alex, stop her before we get a backlash of mail," he told the host.  
"Um, Diane, this is Jeopardy, could you perhaps control yourself a little?" Trebek pleaded with his wayward contestant. Diane stopped cursing but charged over to the scrim and kicked it over, exposing Adrian once again to the audience's full view. "Oops," she told Adrian, "Guess my foot got away!"  
"That statement really doesn't make much sense, hardly any really," Adrian said, wincing from the crowd again.  
In her seat, Sharona removed her hands from Benjy's ears now that the tirade was over. "Boy, she really took that the wrong way," she commented, "I'd never go that far when he proves me wrong."  
"Oh really, Sharona?" Gail asked her sister, "Because if I remember correctly, you used that language and a whole lot more when Mom's back was turned."  
"You know what Gail, don't start," Sharona told her curtly, "Not in front of my kid."  
"Well I'm just remembering what I heard."  
"Excuse me," Disher cut in, "Do I have to separate you two?"  
"You already are," Sharona said, pointing to Disher's seating arrangement between them. "Oh," the lieutenant said sheepishly.  
  
In Ambrose's house, everyone's mouth was hanging open at the blatant profanity they'd all just witnessed. "How'd that get out on the air?" Warren St. Clair wondered.  
"Bet that'll happen again," Max said with a big smile on his face.  
"Hey, if I hear either of you saying any of that here, I will tell your mother," Cheryl warned him and his brother.  
"Adrian was right though," Ambrose commented, "It is Scorpius and not Scorpio. Likewise it's Capricornus and not Capricorn as in the zodiac. I have no clue as to why the changes, but it might have been a cultural thing. Like in Japan the Big Dipper's a car, and in..."  
"We don't need for you to lay it all out for us," Detective Kirk told him curtly.  
"Just thought you'd like to know," Ambrose shrugged.  
  
"I've just talked with the judges," Trebek told the contestants, "And we're just going to throw that answer out. In consolation, Diane, we will give you control of the board."  
"Good," Diane said, still not wholly calmed down, "Let's try the very out of order Cartoon Voice Talent for $800."  
"Are you trying to derail Adrian forcefully?" Trebek asked.  
"That depends on how you look at it," Diane told him.  
"Anyway, here's the clue: Walt Disney last voiced Mickey Mouse in this 1949 short, a segment in the feature Fun and Fancy Free," Trebek read, ""Adrian?"  
"What is Mickey and the Beanstalk."  
"Right. Make a selection."  
"Oh boy, this is hard now," Adrian said, rolling his head around, "This board's now become a feng shui nightmare."  
"Well, we're on a tight schedule now, Adrian, so could you wake up from that nightmare and continue the round, we'd really appreciate it," Trebek said pleadingly.  
"OK then, uh, let's pick up where we left off, Constellations for $1,200."  
"Before Polaris took over the position about thirteen thousand years ago, Thuban in this constellation was the North Star. Adrian?"  
"What is Draco."  
"Draco the dragon, right."  
"Constellations for $1,600."  
"Carina the keel, Puppis the stern, Pyxis the compass, and Vela the sails were once joined together in this one large constellation. Adrian?"  
  
"What is Argo Navis."  
"Argo Navis, the Argonauts' boat."  
"Constellations for $2,000."  
"This constellation, representing an octant, is closest to the celestial South Pole. Adrian?"  
"What is Octans."  
"Octans the octant, correct."  
"The Pennsylvania Turnpike for $400."  
"The original 160 mile stretch of the turnpike ran from Carlisle in the east to this Pittsburgh suburb in the west. Adrian?"  
"What is Irwin."  
"Indeed."  
The Pennsylvania Turnpike for $800."  
At 6,792 feet, this was the longest tunnel on the turnpike until it was abandoned in 1968. Adrian?"  
"What is the Sideling Hill Tunnel."  
"Exactly."  
"The Pennsylvania Turnpike for $1,200."  
"Answer is the other Daily Double," Trebek announced. "Once again, Adrian, let me remind you that you're in complete control of this game right now, with $55,050, and let me also remind you that if you wager an amount that begins with a zero, I'll kill you on national TV." The audience laughed hard at this. "So what is your wager, Adrian?"  
"Well, I guess I could try for broke here," Adrian shrugged.  
"So you wish to try for a true Daily Double?"  
"Sure, why not?"  
"All right, for over a hundred thousand dollars, here's the clue: Called Little Panama by those who built it, this 153 foot cut was the largest of its kind at the time of its construction."  
"What is Clear Ridge Cut."  
"Right, and Adrian, you have now become the first player in Jeopardy history to go over a hundred thousand dollars in a single game with $111,000," Trebek said. The audience rose to their feet and gave the detective a standing ovation, which he took with a very nervous grin and a brief wave. "Do you have anything to say for this achievement, Adrian?" the host asked.  
"Could—Could you move a few feet to the left, Alex, your not centered with your podium," Adrian pointed out.  
"You'll ruin my shot if he does!" Dave the cameraman protested.  
"I think I'd better just to be safe, Dave," Trebek told him, scooting over the few inches.  
"Great, now the shot's busted!" Dave growled. He gave Adrian a sour look. "You and me in the parking lot after the show, pal, you hear me!" he barked.  
"No, I don't hear you," Adrian put his hand to his ear, "Could you say that again, it's kind of loud in here with the people cheering and all."  
"It's still your turn, Adrian," Trebek told him.  
"Okay, uh, The Pennsylvania Turnpike for $1,600," Adrian was now dancing around wildly in place, being so unnerved by the audience.  
"The longest bridge on the mainline turnpike spans this river near Harrisburg. Adrian?"  
"What is the Susquehanna."  
"Right."  
"The Pennsylvania Turnpike for $2,000."  
In the early 1990s the Perry Highway interchange was renamed this, for the township it resides in. Adrian?"  
"What is Cranberry."  
"Exactly."  
"Uh, she kind of broke the pattern with the next one, uh, but I'll have Cartoon Voice Actors for $1,200."  
"A longtime dog voice expert, he's famous for both Scooby-Doo and Astro from The Jetsons. Adrian?"  
"Who was Don Messick."  
"Right, we have less than a minute to go in the round."  
"Cartoon Voice Actors for $1,600."  
"He was a soundman for the Fleischer Studio when he was asked to do the voice of Popeye for fun in 1934; he would continue to do the voice for the next 45 years. Adrian?"  
"Who was Jack Mercer."  
"Correct."  
"Cartoon Voice Actors for $2,000."  
"She landed the permanent voice of Woody Woodpecker in 1951 primarily because she was Walter Lantz's wife. Adrian?"  
"Who was Grace Stafford."  
"Exactly." The audience was now applauding Adrian after every correct answer. Rather than encouraging him, however, it was definitely affecting his ability to focus. He hopped around crazily, doing Russian folk dances. "Uh, Adrian, are you all right there?" Trebek had to ask him.  
  
"Fine Alex, let's take Cartoon Voice Actors for $400," Adrian said nervously.  
"He looks like he's about to have a breakdown," Sharona whispered to Dr. Kroger, "I think we should tell them to hold up for a moment."  
"Well, since he's got less than a minute to go, I think he'll be okay unless he has a disassociative episode," Dr. Kroger said.  
"And you don't think that's a disassociative episode?" Sharona pointed to Adrian's gyrations.  
"Well, I could be wrong," the psychiatrist admitted.  
"The only major Looney Tune not voiced by Mel Blanc," Trebek read, "Adrian?"  
"Who is Elmer Fudd."  
"Correct, and you're just five questions away from history."  
"Baseball Hall of Famers for $400."  
"The ace of the Chicago Cubs World Championship teams in 1907 and 1908, his nicknamed derived from an unfortunate accident he had with a dynamite cap as a child. Adrian?"  
"Who was Nolan "The Rocket" Clemens."  
"HE'S WRONG!!??" Trebek gasped on national TV. Realizing his situation, the host recollected himself and said more formally, "I'm sorry Adrian, it was neither of them. Oliver?"  
"Who was Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown," Oliver said, pumping his fist in the thrill of finally getting on the board.  
"That's right, Oliver, and you're finally on the board," Trebek said, "Pick again."  
"Baseball Hall of Famers for $800," Oliver now had a devious look on his face, realizing that Adrian had a weakness.  
"This Washington Senator retired just thirteen hits shy of 3,000 for his career. Adrian?"  
"Who was O.J., uh, O.J. Abdul-Jabbar."  
"No. Diane?"  
"Who was Sam Rice."  
"Correct, and you're back to zero," Trebek said. Diane stuck out her tongue at a now incredibly nervous Adrian.  
"O.J. Abdul-Jabbar!?" Stottlemeyer said incredulously, "Where was Monk during the Trial?"  
"Trying to get himself in bed with Trudy, I suppose," Disher suggested.  
"I don't think that's really amusing," Sharona told him sternly. She looked with sympathy at her patient. "I hope the buzzer rings soon," she told Dr. Kroger, "Or else he's going to die out there."  
Indeed, Adrian was on the verge of losing his contact with reality. The audience, the lights, the cameras, the board, the pressure, and especially the suspiciously flickering light, were all ganging up on him, and he was now delving deep into the last bits of self-help mentality to keep himself afloat. He could barely even here Diane ask, "Baseball Hall of Famers for $2,000," and Trebek read, "The first pitcher to reach three hundred wins, he still ranks sixth on the all-time list." Yet the detective was still in control enough to buzz in and blurt out, "Who was...who was...Ti...Ti...Ti...Tiger Bird."  
"No," Trebek said as the audience laughed harder than ever, "Oliver?"  
  
"Who was Pud Galvin."  
"Right. Adrian, are you sure you don't need help?"  
"I'm just fine, Alex!" Monk shouted through the tears he was starting to cry, "Baseball Hall of Famers for $4,000!"  
"Uh, Adrian, that's not a value on the board, and Oliver's in control," Trebek reminded him, looking more uncomfortable with the situation than ever, "It's still your turn, Oliver."  
"Baseball Hall of Famers for $1,600."  
"He still holds the record for most hits in a season with 273. Adrian?"  
"WHO WAS EMMETT "MAGIC" GRETZKY!!!!" Adrian screamed at the top of his lungs, collapsing to a heap on the floor.  
"NO. Oliver?"  
"Who was George Sisler."  
"That's correct," Trebek said as the "time's up," buzzer rang again, "And what had to have been the most interesting round in the history of this show is mercifully over. I don't know what I could have expected if this were to have gone on any further. At any rate, Adrian, you still have a fairly dominant lead with $115,000, Oliver, you managed to come in with a late surge and stand at $4,000, and Diane, unfortunately, you were unable to get back on the positive side, and we're going to have to say goodbye, but at least you'll get $1,000 in consolation money and our thanks for signing up on Jeopardy, we hope you enjoyed playing."  
"Not really," Diane said. She gave Adrian the harshest of looks before walking toward Steve, muttering, "I'll get you for embarrassing me like this!" over her shoulder.  
"Anyway," Trebek turned back to the board, "Here's our Final Jeopardy category: Hockey Stars. Oh boy. This could make things VERY interesting. Anything can happen in Final Jeopardy, so stay tuned to see how this historical show turns out."  
The moment the music was over, the host thumped his head against his podium. "Why couldn't this happen to Pat Sajak!?" he moaned out loud, "I'll go insane if he wins and comes back tomorrow!"  
"How do you think I feel, Alex?" Adrian moaned over to him, "If it makes you feel any better, I'd like to take the money and leave now, if that's all right."  
"Unfortunately it's NOT all right, Adrian, because the rules say you have to come back if you win," Trebek lamented.  
"Can't we change it just this once?"  
"Adrian," Sharona ran up to her ward, "Are you sure you're all right?"  
"Take me home, Sharona, I can't take it any more!" Adrian howled miserably, "It's too much for a poor human being to bear! The staring eyes, the...!"  
"It's okay, Adrian, we'll get you out of here, but you've got to get through Final Jeopardy first," Sharona told him, "And if Mr. Smart Aleck over there give you any lip, signal me and I'll crack his head open."  
"I don't want his head cracked open, I just want back to my even life...that light," Adrian pointed up at the blinking fixture, "Something's very wrong with it! I have really bad feeling something terrible's about to...!"  
"Adrian, for the love of God, pull yourself together!" Sharona barked at him, "Think of how Trudy's thinking seeing you like this! If anything, get a grip for her sake!"  
"Get a grip for Trudy's sake, get a grip for Trudy's sake," Adrian repeated, "I'll get a grip for Trudy's sake...after I get out of here!"  
"Want me to call a straitjacket for you, bub?" Oliver asked with a huge smile on his face, "Maybe some time in the nuthouse will do you good. And you won't have to worry about the money, because I can..."  
"Will you stay out of what isn't your business!!" Sharona bellowed at the champ, "God, you and Queen Bavmorda have been tearing him up for no reason all night! Leave him alone!"  
"And what will you do, hit me?" Oliver challenged.  
Sharona advanced menacingly toward him. "Like Adrian said earlier, I don't take well to people hurting those close to me," she told him darkly, "Can't you understand that people with disabilities are human beings? How do you think you'd feel if you'd have to live in his world?"  
"Miss, I wouldn't even want to think about living in his world," Oliver remarked, "It's bad enough thinking about it."  
Sharona gave him the harshest of glares. "OK Adrian, just close your eyes and bet nothing and we'll be out of here," she told him, "We'll get the scrim set up again so the audience can't see you; in the meantime just go to your happy place."  
"I've already been there," Adrian lamented, "It's been befouled by the sad stuff! And that light...!"  
  
Sam downed the third cognac he'd had since the round began. "How'd I come to this?" he asked nobody in particular, "Thirteen years down the drain in one night!"  
"Oh it's not that bad, Sam," one of the pages tried to reassure him, "At least Dan Enright fell harder."  
"Whatever," Sam shrugged. He glanced at his watch. "Well, I have to step out for a minute," he announced, "Rick, take over till I get back."  
"Why do you need to leave?" Rick inquired, "You never leave this late in the show."  
"Look I need to go outside for a little bit, OK!?" Sam looked forcefully at his associate, who shrugged in acceptance. "Boy, what's his problem tonight?" he asked as the director left the control room.  
"Beats me," Ariel said, "It's almost as if he's hiding something...it's very suspicious if you ask me."  
  
"Well folks, I'd say Mr. Monk gave us more than a fare share of top notch entertainment, hasn't he?" a smiling Beiderbeck asked his compatriots.  
"Enough to make me sleep well for a year," Babbage said with a huge laugh at the visions of Adrian breaking sown on national television.  
"Magic Gretzky, can I have your autograph?" Van Rankin said mockingly, "Oh O.J. Abdul-Jabbar, will you sign my underwear please?"  
"You're really disgusting, you know that?" Philbey told the murderer sardonically.  
"What's the matter Derek? We getting too cold-hearted for your liking?" Van Rankin said curtly to him.  
"No Pat, it's just that, well..."  
"You don't need to answer, Mr. Philbey," Beiderbeck cut him off, "As I said before, this is not a time for fighting." The fat man dug behind his nightstand and pulled out a case of champagne. "Harry, pass these around," he told the former commissioner, "We pop them open the moment Monk dies in a literal blaze of glory. I think he'll like heaven. There are no nuisances there to keep him up half the night. Especially those naughty sports questions." He laughed grotesquely to himself at this last thought of an actually happy Adrian Monk. He gave the clock one final check. His hated nemesis now had less than six and a half minutes to live... 


	7. Mr Monk in Final Jeopardy

SEVEN  
"That's it, nice and centered," Adrian told the stagehand putting his divider into place for Final Jeopardy.  
"Now if you do win, let's not have one of those meltdowns everyday over this and anything else insignificant," the stagehand warned him.  
"It's not really insignificant, it's rather important, actually," Adrian said. He glanced back up at the light. It almost looked ready to explode. He then distinctively heard the sound of something clicking into place. The light was now ticking, he could hear. And then, it all fell into place for him, as it usually did. "Oh my God!" he breathed, realizing what was about to happen.  
"Yeah, you're right on that, pal," Oliver said from his podium, "When I get through with you in this round, you'll..."  
"Not you," Adrian told him. He had to warn all the people in the studio their lives were in danger. The sound of Rick's voice over the intercom saying, "Quiet in the audience for contestant info, please," gave him an idea. He ran out in front of the crane camera as soon as Johnny Gilbert began his plug: "If you live in the Los Angeles are and would like..."  
"THERE'S A BOMB IN HERE!!" Adrian yelled into the camera at the top of his lungs.  
"Now what's he doing?" Rick wondered in the control room.  
"I think he flipped his lid," Ray snorted, "Maybe if we take him outside for a little bit he'll relax."  
"Come on Sam, where are you?" Rick wondered, glancing up at the clock: 7:55:09.  
"All of you run for your lives!" Adrian screamed at the audience, "Your lives are in grave danger!"  
"Monk, what are you yelling about!? Stottlemeyer thundered, rising to his feet.  
"Captain, that light is rigged to explode!" Adrian cried at him breathlessly, "It's going to blow in..." he gave the light a close examination, "two minutes and thirty-seven seconds!"  
"Oh come on Monk, don't you think you're just...." Stottlemeyer started to retort.  
"Excuse me captain," Dr. Kroger interrupted him, "Are you sure, Adrian?"  
"I'm dead sure, doctor, at least in the figurative way, hopefully not the literal one!" Adrian flashed his psychiatrist a look that confirmed his suspicions. The detective's entourage rose to their feet, concerned looks on their faces. "Randy, get the people outside, I'm going to help Monk get that thing disarmed," Stottlemeyer ordered his lieutenant.  
"Right sir," Disher pulled out his badge and showed it to the audience. "San Francisco police," he announced, "If you'd please follow me..."  
But Disher's words were lost in the pandemonium. The audience, realizing Adrian was telling them the truth, had started screaming at the top of their lungs and were running pell-mell for all the exits at once, with no sense of direction, leaving the lieutenant to shout, "Please exit in an orderly fashion," to no one in particular repeatedly.  
"Who would want to bomb Jeopardy?" Monica asked to Sharona as they weaved their way toward the far aisle.  
"Who knows, either some nutcase who's mad at L.A. or somebody out for revenge against Adrian, I suppose," Sharona said. She was forcing a stoic face, but the deep levels of fear were showing through her expression. She located Gail, who'd been lost in the madness. "Gail, take Benjy outside, make sure he's safe," she told her sister, handing her son to her, "I'm going to help Adrian."  
"Be careful Mom," Benjy pleaded her as she rushed off toward the stage.  
"I will," she called back over her shoulder, but once she was out of his hearing range, she muttered to herself, "I sure hope we can disarm this!"  
  
"Damn it, he knows now!" Gold muttered in disgust at the sight of the near riot conditions on the screen.  
"Relax Dexter, there's no way Monk can disarm that thing with the way it's been rigged," Beiderbeck reassured him, "He'll be lucky to even get the cover off the bomb before it splatters his entrails all over the place. And I don't think our agent will even let him get that far, so let's all calm ourselves." He gave the clock one more check. "We have reached the two minute warning, folks," he announced to his cohorts, "Prepare to lift your glasses, because we're in for some maximum carnage."  
  
"What's all this about a bomb?" Gregorio asked, watching Ambrose's screen hesitantly.  
"Simple Scott, the brilliant Adrian Monk has finally cracked," Miranda St. Clair snorted.  
"I don't think so, Mrs. Mayor," Ambrose said, his face tight with worry, "Adrian wouldn't make up something like that."  
  
"Rob, where's Dave and Susan?" Rick demanded into his headset, "One or both of them might be behind this thing!"  
"And I'm telling you for the third time Rick, I have no idea!" Rob told him, "They both left a few minutes ago, and no one can find them."  
"Well keep looking," Rick said. He turned to his associates in the control room. "Ariel, did you call the cops?" he asked the page.  
"Yes, but it'll take them a while to get here," Ariel told him, "I hope Adrian and the people he's with can disarm it themselves."  
  
"Which one is it, Monk?" Stottlemeyer asked the former detective as they rushed onto the stage.  
"That one, Captain," Adrian pointed to the rigged light.  
"Excuse us, we need your ladder, it's an emergency!" Sharona demanded to a stagehand walking by with one.  
"What's the problem?" the stagehand asked.  
"Oh my God, where have you been!?" Sharona snatched it out of his hands. "And give me those too," she added, taking some pliers out of his utility belt.  
"You're going to give them back, right?" the stagehand asked, miffed.  
  
"Here," Sharona set it up underneath the light, "Now who's going up?"  
  
"I will," Adrian raised his hand.  
"But Adrian, it's pretty high up!" Sharona protested, "And I'd never forgive myself if you died like that!"  
"Sharona, of all of us I have the least to live for; you have a son, the captain has a wife and family, and I've got only memories of Trudy," Adrian explained, "If I die, I'll be with her, and that's not bad at all."  
  
"But you don't know how to diffuse a bomb! After the Babbages'..."  
There's always a first time for everything, I guess," Adrian shrugged. He took the pliers and began to very slowly climb the ladder, muttering under his breath, "I've got to be out of my mind!"  
"All right Monk, drop those pliers and get away from there right now!!" came a harsh shout from behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Adrian let the pliers clatter to the floor and turned slowly around to find himself face to face with.... 


	8. Wrapping Things Up

EIGHT  
"Steve," Adrian said, "I should have guessed."  
"Everybody back in your seats!" Steve shouted, waving his gun at the audience, "You're not going anywhere!"  
"Steve, what the hell is this all about!?" Trebek asked from behind his podium.  
"Shut up and stay out of this, Alex!" Steve fired a shot just over Trebek's head, causing him to crouch fearfully to the floor. "Get off that ladder now, Monk!" he yelled at the detective, aiming at his forehead.  
"Put the gun down, pal," came Disher's voice. The lieutenant was standing directly behind the contestant coordinator with his hand in his jacket pocket. "Drop the gun or I shoot," he warned him, gesturing with a pointed object.  
"That's not a gun," Steve laughed, "That's your finger."  
"It's a gun," Disher said forcefully.  
"It's your finger."  
"Okay, it's my finger," Disher took his hand out. Seeing the dirty looks his associates were giving him for telling the suspect the truth, he added, "But it's a loaded finger."  
Steve burst into laughter. "What idiot put you on the force!?" he asked.  
"This idiot!" Stottlemeyer tackled Steve from behind, knocking the gun out of his hand. The captain picked it up and held it to the coordinator's head. "All right smart guy, you'd better tell us how to stop this bomb right now or you'll be a dead man yourself!" he demanded.  
Sam reentered the control room at this point. "What's going on?" he asked the crew, "Why aren't we running commercials?"  
"Oh nothing really," Rick told him, "Steve's just flipped his lid, and he's about to kill all of us. Where were you?"  
"I was constipated," Sam said matter-of-factually, "Give me the headset, I'm going to let America see this in the best Jeopardy fashion."  
"All right," Steve whimpered under the withering glance of Stottlemeyer, "The bomb's in the back. The light's just a fake. Take the cover off the back."  
"Right," Sharona hand Adrian the pliers. "I—I can't," Adrian said, pushing them away, "They've hit the floor—there's germs galore on them—and I'm out of wipes. And I am really high up here."  
"And you're the same guy who went up there so heroically just a second ago!?" Sharona said sarcastically, "Take them Adrian!"  
"I wasn't thinking straight a second ago, it was..."  
"TAKE THE PLIERS AND DISARM THAT BOMB, ADRIAN MONK, OR I WILL DUMP THE NEAREST TRASH CAN ALL OVER YOU!!!!!!!!!" Sharona bellowed at the top of her lungs. Shaken, Adrian complied. Surprisingly, the cover came off easily. He saw a complex set of wires, and enough C4 to separate California from the rest of the West Coast. He had less than 25 seconds. "Which wire do I cut?" he asked Steve.  
"Cut the...Cut the..." Steve fainted dead away. "Perfect!" Stottlemeyer growled. He looked up at his associate. "Take a pick, Monk, and hope it's the right one!" he called.  
"Great, which one, which one!?" Adrian thought frantically. He moved the pliers back and forth among the wires, completely unsure.  
  
"Fifteen, fourteen," the conspirators in jail counted down the final seconds, champagne bottles ready to be uncorked, "Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven..."  
  
"For the love of God Adrian, pick one!!" Sharona screamed desperately at him.  
"I...can't...pick...I'll do all of them!" Monk closed his pliers around all the wires.  
"DON'T!!!!!!" everybody screamed. They covered their heads in anticipation of the blast. Adrian squeezed the pliers...  
With a loud rattle, the bomb died, a mere 1.4 seconds left before it would have detonated. Adrian breathed a huge sigh of relief and immediately dropped the pliers to the ground. Steve came out of his fake faint. "How the hell did you figure that out!!" he demanded to the detective, "I didn't tell anybody else that you had to cut them all and at once to stop it!!"  
"Lucky guess," Adrian said, scrambling back down the ladder to solid ground, "For once in my life luck was on my side."  
"The one thing I want to know," Sharona said as studio police rushed on stage and handcuffed Steve, "Is why he'd be willing to risk so many lives for this?"  
"It was quite simple, Sharona, revenge," Adrian explained, "And he wasn't the mastermind. I noticed earlier a photo in his wallet of him and some other people I've seen before. One of them happened to be a couple that's no longer married. The wife—Steve's sister, I'm presuming—was Lori Conroy, previously known as Lori Conroy Phillbey."  
"Phillbey?" Stottlemeyer was surprised at the name, "The science teacher?"  
"Exactly, Captain," Adrian said, "I'm guessing that during a visitation, Derek Phillbey put the idea into his mind about helping him in some sort of revenge plot. I accidentally told Derek my address while I was undercover at the school during one moment of weakness, and I guess he relayed it to his brother-in-law. Then it was a simple matter of calling me up and telling me I was on the show. He knew he couldn't kill me in broad daylight, so he had to come up with a more subtle way. A bombed light was a perfect solution. You said earlier the regular light technician called in sick, Steve. I'm guessing you killed him sometime before the show so you could set the rigged light up yourself. You said yourself that just about anybody on this crew could rig a light, and you're no different. I noticed an IATSE card in your wallet too, so you have experience with such work, and the burn marks on your hands right now tell me you were a little careless in putting it up. It was so perfect, and nobody would have suspected you."  
"You want to know something, Monk!" Steve yelled, balling up his hands behind his back so no one could see the burn marks in question, "Throughout my life, I was the lonely brain of my class! Nobody wanted to ever hang out with boring, intelligent Steve! Derek was the only friend I had! He was the only one to take me in and see me as a human being! And you took him away from me!"  
"Your 'friend' killed two people so your sister wouldn't have to find out he was a lying cheater!" Sharona shouted at the accused, "I wouldn't exactly call him a nice guy!"  
"Well you'll never get anything on Derek!" Steve continued, "Because for your information, this wasn't his idea! Someone else was the mastermind!"  
"I sympathize with how you feel, Steve," Adrian said, coming in close to his almost-murderer, "But I can't condone your actions. Do your thing, boys," he said to the studio cops.  
"Right," the biggest one said, dragging Steve offstage.  
"This is going to get me an Emmy for sure!" Sam cackled in delight in the control room, "This is going to put Carpenter's Millionaire show to shame!"  
  
Stunned silence was the situation in Beiderbeck's cell now. Everyone stared blankly at the screen, not letting it seep in just yet that their plans had been foiled. Beiderbeck spoke up first. "Well, it wasn't a total loss," he said optimistically, "We did give him a major scare, wouldn't you say, Mr. Phillbey?"  
"But they're mixed together!" Phillbey said softly.  
"What?" Beiderbeck frowned.  
"But they're even!" Phillbey said, a blank stare on his face. He slowly rose and wandered aimlessly about the room, muttering, "But they're mixed together! But they're even! But they're mixed together! But they're even! But they're mixed together! But they're even! But they're...!"  
The sound of footsteps clamored up the hall. "Derek Phillbey, you're under arrest for attempted murder," one of the guards said, entering the cell with about a half dozen of his comrades."  
"It was Beiderbeck!" Phillbey shouted, pointing at the fat man, "He planned it! He put me up to it! He blackmailed me! He's behind the whole scheme! He's...!"  
"Thank you," the guard brushed him aside, "Dale Beiderbeck, you are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit manslaughter, and blackmail," he told the former financier, "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in..."  
"I know my Miranda rights," Beiderbeck grumbled, "And you're violating my privacy."  
"That's the least of your concerns, Mr. Beiderbeck," the guard said. Turning to the rest of the group, he continued, "You are all under arrest for conspiracy. Take them back to their cells until they have formal charges prepared, men," he told his fellow guards.  
"Look at it this way, folks, now we get to come up with an even better way to kill him," Beiderbeck tried to cheer his conspirators as their were led out of his cell, "Maybe for the next episode we'll plant a poison gas charge in the air ducts and..."  
"OH SHUT UP!!!!" everyone yelled at him.  
  
"Well folks, if you were watching that bit we just had on camera, you saw why Adrian is a world-renowned sleuth," Trebek told the viewing public now that things in the studio had calmed down, "And now we can proceed with Final Jeopardy. Here's the clue: This hockey pioneer was killed in World War I, but the NCAA hockey equivalent of the Heisman Trophy bears his name. Thirty seconds players, good luck."  
"Do you think he stands a chance?" Sharona asked Stottlemeyer as they watched from a special spot just off stage right.  
"Not really," Stottlemeyer admitted, "But I must say, he's really made me and the department proud."  
"I hope that carries over to Commissioner Brooks," Sharona said.  
"Who cares?" Stottlemeyer shrugged as the lights came back up. "Oliver, we'll start with you," Trebek said, "You put down, 'Who was Sid Abel.' No, that's incorrect, and it will cost you...three thousand dollars, leaving you with a total of $1,000 for today. We move over to Adrian with his commanding lead, and he put down...it looks like several answers he wasn't satisfied with before writing, 'Who was Cal McEnroe, Jr.' No, neither of them played hockey, Adrian. The correct answer is Hobey Baker. Now the all important question, how much did you wager?...You've put down, 'I can't make up my mind, Alex!?' Adrian, that is not a wager."  
"Well I can't think of what would be appropriate for this round!" Adrian protested. Trebek groaned. "All right Adrian, for the sake of soundness, you bet nothing, and become our new champion with a one day record of $115,000, congratulations."  
The audience rose to their feet and gave Adrian a standing ovation. The detective smiled weakly and waved to them. "One thing I have to know, Adrian, is what was going through your mind in that last round when you were, well, starting to drift a bit?" Trebek asked him.  
"Thoughts of passing out," Adrian told him, "In all honesty, I'd like to thank my brother Ambrose for helping me all last week, and without his help I'd never have come this far, and apart from my wedding day, this is the happiest moment of my life...I think."  
  
Everyone in Ambrose's house cheered and patted him on the back at his lauding. Ambrose managed a warm smile. "Thanks Adrian," he told his brother on the screen, "It's great to know you're back."  
"So, now that he's made you a star, I guess you're going to the next taping?" Cheryl asked him.  
"Uh, no," Ambrose said quickly, "I'm...I'm good to watch it here. No need to go down to L.A."  
"What's the matter, scared of L.A.?" Detective Kirk asked him.  
"Well, no, it's just that, uh, L.A.'s not this house, and, um, I think the pot roast is ready," Ambrose dashed into the kitchen. He came back out with the pot roast and a large chocolate cake. "To Adrian," he said, holding the cake up as if toasting, "Long may he reign. Let's eat."  
  
Everyone dug in. Julie pulled out her cell phone. "Guess what grandma?" she told her grandmother, "We're going to be rich!"  
"After taxes, maybe not," Ambrose reminded her as he cut the cake.  
  
"So will Adrian make this a long run like Thom McKee's Tic-Tac-Dough reign, or will it be a one day affair like Michael Larsen's Press Your Luck win?" Trebek posed to the viewing public, "Tune in tomorrow to find out, till then, take care."  
"Adrian, let me just say that you did spectacular," Dr. Kroger informed his patient as the group came back over once the theme came on full blast.  
"Yes, better than John Carpenter," Monica said, cutting in. Adrian smiled. Fancy seeing you here," he said.  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Monica said, "And I'll be here until you lose. Just like Trudy would have been."  
"That's nice," Adrian smiled, "I'm glad so many people care—in a positive way."  
"Thanks for not embarrassing us, Monk," Stottlemeyer told him, waving to an audience member that was cheering him for stopping Steve.  
"It was an honor not to embarrass you Captain," Adrian said, "And I hope...."  
"Lieutenant, what are you doing!?" Stottlemeyer demanded. Disher, who'd been swaying bizarrely to the Jeopardy theme in front of some impressionable young women, stopped abruptly. "Nothing, sir," he said quickly.  
"Save it for a murder at a nightclub, Randy," Stottlemeyer told him roughly.  
"So, I suppose I get fifty percent of the winnings?" Sharona said, cutting in front of Adrian as he waved to the crowd.  
"Fifty? No, no, that's a bit of a stretch," Adrian said quickly, "I'd say twenty-five is a bit more fair."  
"No Adrian, I'm your assistant, and you will not cut me out of the paycheck!" Sharona barked, "I deserve half after I practically gave you the will to cut those wires!"  
"Oh sure, after I had them practically cut before Steve pulled the gun."  
"No you didn't, you're making that up!"  
"Okay then, here's a fair compromise: I get fifty percent, and you and the others split the other fifty."  
"Now what kind of fair compromise is that, Adrian!?"  
"One I like."  
Sharona groaned in frustration. "You are the biggest stiff in the world, Adrian!" she growled, "I could probably get more from singing in the streets!"  
"I don't think so."  
"Why don't you just suck it up and give me the cash, Adrian!?"  
"No, you need to suck it up this time."  
"No, you do!"  
"No, you do."  
"No you do!"  
"No you do."  
"HONESTLY!!" Benjy interceded, "Am I the most mature person here!? Why don't you both get a grip!" Then he sided up along his mother and asked, "This does mean I'm getting a bigger allowance, though, right Mom?"  
  
"Don't bet your life on it," she told him.  
"Hey superstar," came a distant voice from Adrian's rear. He turned around and walked backwards toward the source of it. "Trudy," he breathed. His wife was standing near the podiums, where Oliver had his head down and was muttering bloody murder under his breath. He could see through her, but she was definitely there, at least as far as he could tell. "Nice job," she told him, "I'm very impressed."  
"I did it in your honor, Trudy," Adrian told her, his heart melting for her, "And I'll keep winning for you, as long as you want me to."  
Trudy flashed him a huge smile, the one that always made Adrian feel lighter than air. She moved toward him and puckered her lips, but before she could kiss him...  
"Adrian, who are you talking to?" Trebek asked over Adrian's shoulder.  
"My wife," Adrian said. He'd turned to Trebek to tell him this, and when he turned back around, Trudy had vanished. "I think," he added.  
Trebek shook his head. "What a way to start the week!" he said to himself as he headed backstage, "I should start thinking about that retirement home up in Manitoba if he keeps winning!"  
  
THE END 


End file.
